


Symbiosis

by PseudonymMcWriter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudonymMcWriter/pseuds/PseudonymMcWriter
Summary: In a post-revolution world, Connor has some new features to test out.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 242
Collections: Detroit: Become Human - Connor x Reader/OC Recommendations





	Symbiosis

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the kind messages and kudos!
> 
> I have other Connor/Reader fics you can find here: [Touch-Starved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250543), [Never Thought I'd Be Into This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092566), [Guess I'm Into This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761338), [Duet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061894), [Deviant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29738274), [What I Want](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969554), [Android Puberty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703520/chapters/67801961), [Christmas Party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959723/chapters/68477054) and [Science Fiction/Double Feature](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696857/chapters/70354788).

It was the talk of the station. Gavin Reed had botched a new case, one of the first with androids he'd been trusted with. Frankly, no one thought it was a good idea to let him loose, but after the revolution there wasn’t much hope of Reed keeping his job if he couldn’t stand the new additions to the populace.

Apparently androids were as capable of breaking the rules as people, but it wasn’t super common. Usually an android-involved crime meant the android was the victim. Maybe it was this scarcity of cases that had Reed jumping at the chance to catch an android in the act. Turns out he misread the situation entirely, arrested an innocent android, and now the whole station could barely keep their faces straight whenever Reed walked in the room.

“So, let me get this straight,” You lean back in your chair, your lips quirking at the sight of Reed disappearing into Captain Fowler’s office. “A neighbour heard them having sex, immediately assumed it was non-consensual, called us, then Reed busts in on a clearly happy couple and arrests the android. Oh, Fowler’s going to rip his ass.”

Connor may be more polite than you are, but you know him well enough to see he’s amused. “I believe his assumption was that androids cannot engage in sexual activity in the way humans can. His assumption paired with the neighbour’s description of it being very... vocal... must have tipped him off.”

“What a dipshit,” You shake your head. “Androids do have sex, don’t they? Maybe this one was just exaggerating a bit. Partner’s human, it would make sense. No one wants to feel like they’re having sex with somebody who isn’t enjoying it.”

“That's a common misconception, androids are more than capable of experiencing such stimuli - whether it's pain or pleasure. The only difference is that we can choose whether or not to enable receptors," Connor replies, which sounds like a complicated way of saying androids can get off. "Besides, I met the android. He had certain protocols engaged that would explain the situation.”

You cock your head to one side, pulling your eyes away from the glass wall of Fowler’s office, where you can see the Captain yelling at a rightfully cowed Reed. That’ll teach the smarmy prick. “How so?”

“Androids can lower the barrier between themselves and the humans around them, to register and replicate more immediate sensory reactions.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, propping your elbow on the desk between you. When he opens his mouth to explain, you quickly raise your hand. “The non-scientific version, if you wouldn’t mind. I have no brain.”

“Androids don’t absorb the senses of the human but it’s pretty close. We’re able to tune in and adjust our sensory components to react to corresponding stimuli - so, the android can feel something touching the person they’re attuned to, for example, but beyond that it can encircle emotional response. You feel happy, so I feel happy. It can boost feelings of closeness in mixed human and android social groups. I’ve seen it used in families and friendships, and sexual partners, of course.”

“Wow.” It’s not something you’ve heard of before, but it makes sense. CyberLife hadn’t gone down in flames quite like everyone had expected, instead they survived - like a cockroach. Now they’re in partnership with the new race of deviant androids, operating under their control to push further software and hardware developments to keep androids alive and prospering. You didn’t trust them, not one bit, but they did have weight and, admittedly, had been helpful in improving human/android relations in this post-revolution world. Turns out if you want change, having money and power on your side doesn’t hurt. This sensory-sharing thing must be one of the newer updates, now that people aren’t so squeamish about androids having feelings.

“Can you do it? Have you ever tried?” You ask Connor. He seems slightly surprised at the question.

“I self-update regularly, but I’ve never had a reason to use it.” His tone is matter-of-fact. You nod, turning away to shift through some papers. After a few moments he continues: “I think I would find it to be an... interesting experience.”

The sound of a door slamming open distracts you both. Reed comes barrelling down the steps out of Fowler’s office, swearing under his breath. He casts you and Connor a venomous look before marching out of the station. Fowler comes out to raise his eyebrows at the room before pulling his door closed and returning to his desk, totally unfazed by whatever had just happened. Your colleagues are all murmuring and laughing, and in the commotion you lean back in your chair, casual, not looking at Connor.

“Do you wanna try it?” You ask, tone innocent. He looks at you.

\--

The bar is packed when you arrive, but you're an old hat at this. Before long you and Connor are tucked in your own booth, in a quiet enough spot where you can hear each other without doing permanent damage to your vocal cords… or, voice box.

Connor looks extremely out of place, sitting bolt upright and glancing around at all the hot, sweaty bodies laughing and shouting around you.

"Detective, perhaps this isn't a good idea."

"Hm?" You aren't paying attention, rooting in your pockets for your purse. Fucking bar was cash only. Total ballache.

"A high percentage of all crimes are committed under the influence of alcohol. I have some very worrying statistics about this bar in particular."

"Ease up, plaster cast." Your hand closes on a fistful of crisp notes and you laugh triumphantly. “Okay, dealer’s choice. What do you want?”

Cut to: Three hours and six drinks later. You learned that Connor preferred the colourful drinks, and since you were playing the part of his mouth for the evening, you didn't complain. You had a sweet tooth, and the cocktails certainly got the job done. Better than that, the more inebriated you got, the more Connor relaxed - until he actually seemed to be having fun.

He was just finishing a story about Lieutenant Anderson, and... unbelievably, astoundingly... he was being funny. Like, legitimately funny. The novelty alone almost had you spitting out your drink before he’d even finished the punchline.

“You know, I'm actually having fun. I like hanging out with you,” You lean forwards. He leans forwards too, mirroring your posture, his arms folded on the table. “What does this feel like?”

“I feel... happy?” He poses it as a question, as if he’s not sure, but the smile on his face - the way it reaches his eyes, his shoulders, every part of him - says otherwise.

“This is so weird.” The alcohol has left you flushed, your skin pleasantly warm, a nice buzz keeping a stupid grin on your face. “Hey, can you feel this?”

You tap your fingers against your forearm. Connor quirks a brow and nods, amused. You tap your shoulder, he nods again, then your forehead. His half-smile breaks into a full one when you laugh.

“God, I haven’t been out in...” You lean back, pause to think, teeth coming down on your bottom lip. “I don’t even know.”

“Can I ask you a personal question, detective?” Connor asks. You swallow a mouthful of the sweet liquid and raise your arms to beckon him on. “Do you ever feel lonely?”

“Sure, I think everybody does.” You ponder the contents of your glass before washing the rest down. “Present company excluded, obviously.”

“Present company included, presently,” Connor corrects. “If you feel it, I feel it.”

“Right now?”

“A little,” He’s still leaning forwards on the table. His eyes dip down to the empty glass and then back to your face. “Why haven’t you been out for so long?”

“I’m a busy girl.” It’s not untrue, but it’s certainly not the whole truth. 

“It sounds like you need somebody.” Connor smiles. God, he almost seems human.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” You look around the busy bar, trying not to make it too obvious you’re avoiding his gaze. You’d been working together for almost a year now, and try as you might you hadn’t been able to shake your little crush. You clear your throat, “I get plenty of socialization at work. Can’t beat the endorphin rush of mingling with psychopaths and deviants - the traditional kind.”

“What about the new kind?”

“Hm, you’re a bearable partner.” You bring the glass up before remembering it’s empty. “Oh.”

“Thanks...” He eyes your empty glass. “Have you had enough?”

“This is a sobering topic of conversation,” You say, leaning on your hand, letting the empty glass rotate under your finger. 

“I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is your first night with feelings, I’ve had more than I’d like to admit and I’m still not used to it.” 

You inhale and pull away from the table, your hand coming to your mouth, finger rubbing your lips absently as you think. Do you feel lonely? You don’t think so, but maybe the alcohol’s keeping your mind off it. God, is it that obvious? If he can feel the loneliness then there’s no way he can’t feel the way the alcohol is making you-...

“Detective?”

“Mm?” You hum, lost in thought.

“Detective?” Connor leans forward, his voice more insistent. You look at him. His expression is slightly twisted, his eyes trained on your hand at your mouth. “Would you mind-..?”

“Oh!” You drop your hand immediately, embarrassed. “Sorry, Connor. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine.” His voice is a little strained. “I’m not used to things touching my lips.”

“Yeah? You could’ve fooled me. I haven’t seen a puddle you’ve not been tempted to stick your tongue into.”

Connor’s hands come up to adjust his tie - like a nervous tic. “It’s different.”

“Well...” You begin, shifting in your seat. “It wouldn’t be the real human experience without things getting a bit awkward. Another round?”

“Actually,” Connor stands, his demeanour the most robotic you’ve seen all evening. “Could you excuse me for a moment?”

Connor doesn’t wait for a reply, turning on his heel and starting towards the exit. He only makes it a few steps through the crowded bar when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns... but you’re still at the booth. When he sees your hand grasping your own shoulder, he frowns, almost annoyed that he couldn’t tell the difference. You roll your eyes before getting up to join him.

“Come on, then,” You concede. “Home time.”

\--

You throw yourself down on the couch. Connor cringes.

“What?” You squint up at him, “It’s perfectly sanitary.”

Connor is looking around your apartment. He’s been here before, but never beyond a few feet of the door. Under ordinary circumstances you might feel like your privacy is being invaded as he takes in every detail, scans every surface, deconstructs and squares away your life. But you’re buzzed. Right now, this is all kind of exciting.

“When was the last time you cleaned in here?” Connor asks.

“Like... three fucking days ago,” You spread your arms. “I’m the picture of cleanliness.”

Connor glances in your direction before swivelling around, making steady progress across the room. The living room is cluttered, sure, but it’s not dirty. He’s being banal, finding excuses to nitpick. Or reasons to stay. You watch his back as he walks, stops, and crouches his way around the room. You’ve always kind of liked looking at him from behind. It’s something about the jacket, the way it cuts such a fine figure. The nape of his neck, too, maybe. The symmetry of his hairline. The narrowness of his waist... 

He turns around and you look away quickly.

“Is everything alright, detective?” He asks. Bollocks.

“Just wondering what you’re deducing,” You say, hooking your arm over the back of the sofa.

“From you, or the apartment?” At your shrug he turns more fully to look at you. “Detective, why did you want to try this?”

Again, you shrug. “I thought it’d be a nice bonding experience. You can switch it off, if you want?”

You see his jaw tense, the muscle - or the android equivalent - fluttering beneath the skin. You furrow your brow, one hand raising to brush your hair behind your ear. Immediately, Connor inhales, his posture growing even more stiff.

“Sorry,” You say immediately, a knee-jerk reaction to seeing him uncomfortable, before you realize. Connor’s eyes can’t seem to leave your hand, which is still hovering near your ear. His hands are at his sides, but his fingers are curled so tightly into fists that his knuckles have gone white. "You okay?”

“I’m sorry, that was...” He can’t seem to get the words out. 

“Did you like that?” You ask, “It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

His gaze drops, embarrassed, but when you move your hand a bit closer to your ear it shoots back up to you. He watches as you smooth back your hair, pressing your fingertips to your scalp, dragging your nails lightly through, before trailing them down your neck. You can see his chest rising and falling, like he’s struggling to breathe. You let your hand drop. 

“I get it, okay?” You smile, as if all of this is totally normal. As if it’s just a fun experiment, as if it isn’t making your heart thump so hard in your chest you can’t hear yourself speak. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. It’s perfectly normal, especially when you haven’t... well, you don’t get touched very often, I imagine. But if it’s making you uncomfortable I can stop. Do you want me to stop?”

Connor gives a short, sharp nod. You relax into the sofa. Well, that shows you. “Sorry, Connor.”

By averting your gaze, you hope he’ll relax as well, but when he thinks you’re not looking you notice him quickly swipe a hand through his hair, following the same motion you had. Trying to turn your attention to something else, and not to dwell on what just happened, is easier said than done. Guilt creeps into your gut. Jesus. Android or not, it was pretty inappropriate for you to make him feel like that. The guilt grows stronger, and you turn back to him.

“Connor, I-...”

“Don’t.” Connor’s voice is louder than it needs to be. “It was involuntary. It was my mistake to agree to this.”

“Why did you?” The question comes out before you stop it. Not quite the apology you were intending.

“I...” It’s Connor’s turn to hesitate. He leans back against the cupboard behind him, and doesn’t seem to notice it creaking in protest beneath his weight. “I don’t know. I was curious.”

You swing your legs off of the sofa and come around to face him. You know him well enough to know that if was unhappy with you, he would’ve turned around and walked out already. The fact that he’s still here means something. “We can try something else. Did you have any ideas?”

Connor opens his mouth, then quickly shuts it. He suddenly can’t seem to meet your eye. You shift your weight onto the other foot, trying - and failing - not to lose your patience.

“Connor, for fuck’s sake. I can see you want to try something. Just tell me. It’s fine, you can feel that,” You duck your head a little, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m an open book.”

Connor doesn’t look away, but he doesn’t speak either. Fine. You straighten your back and raise your hand. His eyes stay fixed on yours... for about two seconds, and then they’re dragged - almost against his will - to your fingers as you bring them to your skin. Starting on the back of the opposite hand, you trail your fingers up your arm, feeling your skin heat beneath your touch, and his gaze. When you reach the crook of your neck your touch turns featherlight, almost ticklish, as you move over your collarbones, across to the other side. You glance up to see his reaction. He is breathing heavily again, his head tilted at an odd angle, his eyelids just slightly heavy as he watches your hand move up the side of your neck. When you press your hand against your cheek, you lean into your own touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you trace the shell of your ear.

When you open your eyes, you see that his are closed, his nostrils flaring, his lips slightly parted. He seems to feel your stare, his eyes snapping open.

When you drop your hand, it brushes very lightly against your chest. It wasn’t intentional, and his reaction must be rubbing off on you, because the feel of your own touch is like a spark to tinder, igniting a rush of lust in you as sharply as if it had been him doing it. Him touching you. You raise your eyebrows, before turning and walking away from him, towards your bedroom. “If that’s all then...”

“Wait.”

His order is low, thick, enough to make you stop. You stand in place for a while, almost trembling with anticipation, waiting for him to speak, or come after you. But nothing comes. You look over your shoulder to see him still leaning against the cupboard, his eyes on you.

“How long?” Connor asks.

“How long what?”

“Have you felt sexual attraction towards me?”

Adrenaline skitters through your chest. The muscles around your mouth tighten as you struggle to find the right lie. Connor pushes off of the cupboard, his eyes on your mouth. “Don’t lie.”

Bastard knows you too well. You breathe a laugh, turning to face him, “If you couldn’t tell, does it matter?”

“How long?” He repeats, jaw tight. Apparently he’s not so attuned to your behaviour that he’ll let you lighten the mood.

“A little while.” You raise your arms, overly nonchalant, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His expression is unreadable. Lucky fucker - what you’d give to know how he’s feeling right now.

“Why would I? It’s nothing, Connor. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Besides...” You gesture at him.

“You thought I wouldn’t reciprocate?” He fills in the blanks.

“I didn’t want to make things awkward. It doesn’t get in the way of work, alright, I know how to take care of myself.” You’re still trying to make a joke of it, downplay it, get him to break that intense stare. “I don’t know how this conversation took such a turn, but if you don’t want to be here you can leave.”

You turn your back on him again, before he can see the beginnings of your shame. You’re keeping it contained for now, but you know for a fact that you’ll dwell on this. Lose sleep over it. Maybe more than that. God, why did you think this was a good idea?

“You should’ve told me-...”

“Look, if it’s upset you, then I’m sorry. I am,” You speak quickly, feeling your voice shake. Don’t get upset, it’s not his fault.

“You should’ve told me,” Connor starts again, voice firmer. “So I could tell you how I felt.”

That shuts you up. You can’t bring yourself to turn around at first, as if doing so would shatter the moment - send you crashing out of it, back to Earth.

“Detective?” Connor prompts, his voice softening. You turn around to see that his posture has relaxed along with his voice. He’s almost smiling. “You should have told me, but I understand why you didn’t. I... I was hesitant for the same reason. I was afraid of overstepping professional boundaries, and personal ones.”

You can’t help it. Something switches in your brain - probably relief - and you march up to him and throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Fuck, don’t scare me like that.”

You regret it almost immediately, feeling his body tense up beneath you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. His body is firm, but there is some give in the synthetic skin that covers his plastic frame. You don’t have time to register much more than that.

“Detective...” His voice is strained, but he doesn’t try to detach himself from you. You realize it must be his sensors. He’s feeling your arms around him, and his own body beneath them. Feeling both of you at once.

“Sorry, shit. Sorry,” You take a step back. “That was too much.”

But Connor doesn’t look relieved to see you back off. If anything, he looks a little disappointed. Tentatively, he lifts his hands, then stops. You smile, stepping closer, inviting him to continue. His fingers hover over your body, as if unsure where to start, before settling chastely on your cheek. You lean into it a little, before he moves on. His fingers trace down your neck, your arms, then to your sides, your hips and waist, the tops of your thighs. 

He grows bolder as he leaves these featherlight touches over your clothes. When he reaches the spot in the centre of your chest, somewhere between your heart and your sternum, he pauses and then presses very lightly. You don’t feel much from it, but for him it’s almost instantaneous. He jerks forwards, his eyes closing, his mouth opening slightly in a surprised gasp.

“What is it?” You dare to ask, as his hand flinches away - as if burned - before finding another seeming inconspicuous spot at the base of your skull.

“I don’t know,” He murmurs. “I just wanted to touch it. These are... sensitive parts for androids. Vulnerable.”

“It’s exciting to be vulnerable,” You lean into his touch as he, again, presses lightly into your skin and feels his own body shudder. “To trust someone to touch you there.”

He looks at you. Cautiously, his hands move to scoop up your own, guiding them behind his head. You find the indentation at his hairline. Even without applying pressure, Connor grimaces at your touch. 

“Does it hurt?” You question, your fingers leaving his skin. His response doesn’t make it to words. Instead he grips your hand, pulling the heat of your touch back to the pressure point.

“No,” He manages. “Please.”

His desperate plea courses through you like ice-water. You give in a little, coming just a bit closer, not yet closing the distance between you but making sure there’s just the barest space between you - the feel of your clothing, your breath, against each other. You oblige him, resting your fingers again on that spot above his neck. You can’t claim to understand android anatomy or what he might be feeling. Regrettably, you can’t just absorb his feelings like he can with you. So you go about it the human way, applying just the lightest pressure and circling the spot with your fingertips. 

It does seem to do the trick.

Connor exhults like he’s been struck, suddenly invading your space. You freeze, ready to pull away, but what you mistake as a reaction to pain turns out to be the opposite. Connor opens his eyes long enough to stare at you wildly before pressing his lips against yours. Your mouth opens beneath the crushing weight of his, yielding to his tongue. His hand comes up to run his fingers through your hair, a clumsy copy of your own thoughtless movement earlier, desperate to chase the same sensation. 

“I want...” He breathes against your mouth. “I want to feel you. Your mouth...on...”

“Connor,” You almost grin. “Look at you.”

He gives you a look that’s almost comical, the same one he uses whenever you make a joke at his expense - which you suppose you were. But this isn’t the station, where he has to endure it. His hands suddenly hook beneath your thighs, lifting you with ease. When your legs part around his waist, the sudden contact makes you gasp, which doesn’t escape his notice. He keeps his eyes on you, and you recognise the change in his expression. He’s smug. The android bastard enjoys taking you by surprise, teasing you, pulling these licentious moments of unexpected pleasure from you. These powerless submissions. 

That fucker.

When he deposits you on the mattress, and hovers, half-crouched, at the foot of the bed, he looks at you expectantly, a sort of dark humour playing on his features, but you refuse to make the first move.

“You,” Your voice is barely a whisper, but there’s a strength to it. He listens. “Go and sit over there.”

You nod towards your dressing table, to the chair slightly pulled out from the table. Connor looks perplexed, until he catches the look in your eye.

“Do it,” You murmur, moving away from him, up to the headboard. Connor hesitates, still hunched like a predator over its cornered prey, staring you down. For a moment you think he’s going to refuse, that he’s going to creep onto the bed and drag you down, down, into submission. You’re certain that, with him attuned to your senses, your pleasure, and with this being his first experience, he won’t be satisfied easily. No doubt he’ll make this last, make it happen again and again. So you cling to the control you have, and thankfully, he listens.

Connor stands straight, his eyes never leaving you as he crosses the room. He moves the chair to ensure he’s facing you, before taking a seat.

You lie back against the pillows, taking the time to get comfortable, to slow your breathing. You’re still fully dressed, but that doesn’t really matter. You take your time, rolling over to retrieve the box from beneath your bed. Connor watches with interest as you open the lid, and draw out the vibrator and lube. At first you refuse to look at him, instead concentrating as you squeeze out an appropriate amount of liquid onto your palm, before flipping the lid closed and tossing it aside. 

Before you close your palm around the shaft of the vibrator and begin to spread the moisture up and down, you draw your eyes up to his. You know he can only feel what you’re feeling, but you hope he can pair what you’re doing to his own body. So, when you see his throat bob, and his knuckles tighten on the arms of the chair, after you take a moment to lick up the length of the sex toy, holding it erect to swirl your tongue around the tip, your eyes never leaving his, you can’t help but feel a bit smug yourself.

You hold the vibrator out to him by its dry end, “Could you hold this for a second?”

He obliges wordlessly. You lie back on the bed and unbutton your shirt, shrugging it off, your bra pushing out as your chest heaves. You pull your trousers and underwear down in one smooth motion, but you keep your legs together. You lean back towards him, not saying anything as you take the vibrator back. 

Lying back against the bed, your trace small patterns up your thigh and over your hip bone with one hand, the other holding the vibrator, bringing it down until it’s pressed against your sex. You drag it up and against your clit a few times, forgetting Connor for a moment as you concentrate on yourself.

When you do finally push the vibrator in, the hand on your hip moves up and to pull down one strap of your bra, clasping your exposed breast as you press the button, clocking up the intensity until...

“Oh...” You murmur. You hear Connor’s breath catch, but you refuse to look at him.

You alternate between thrusting the length into yourself and holding it close against your clit, working yourself towards your end. You open your eyes, inadvertently catching Connor’s gaze. He’s lower in the chair than you remember, his hips angled slightly upwards, a telltale bulge in the front of his trousers, with his mouth open and his eyes fixed on you.

You pull the length out, leaving both of you breathless. You roll over onto your front, lowering your top half slowly onto one forearm, while the other repositions the vibrator at your entrance. Your ass is high in the air, obscenely exposed and desperate as you sink the toy back in. You can’t help the low whine that comes from your throat. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. You know it’ll wind Connor up, and it does. His head tips back, his eyes closing as he feels what you’re doing to yourself, his hips twitching upwards - chasing a phantom pleasure.

“Connor...” You breathe, and his eyes snap back to you. You begin to move the vibrator in and out, picking up speed. “Connor.”

Connor grips the chair handles so hard you can hear the wood splintering. Your eyelids feel heavy, switching between staring him down and closing, overwhelmed, as the pressure in your core grows unbearable.

“Connor,” You moan, as if he’s not even there, as if this is all your imagination. “Please.”

Your eyes have squeezed closed. You’re close now. God you’re so close your legs are shaking, your hand moving more urgently, thrusting and pressing, thrusting and pressing. You know he’s enjoying this, you don’t even have to look. Just another few seconds now. So... so...

So the sudden feeling of hands on your ass makes you jump. Long fingers stretch into the curve between your hips and your thighs, gripping tightly, before whispering down the backs of your legs, making you jerk forwards away from him. You hadn’t even heard him move, or felt his weight sink into the mattress behind you.

He takes the toy from you, switching it off and tossing it aside, before spreading his hands up your back. You’re exposed beneath him, perfectly positioned, and the thrill of him catching you like this ripples through you as his fingers trail back up across your ribs, making you press your chest further into the bed, your forehead resting on the pillow as you try to control your breathing.

“This is my first.” His voice has turned breathy, so low you can barely make the words out. “I need you.”

You arch your back even more, pushing back against him. You rest your cheek on the pillow, but at this angle you can’t really see him, just the faintest outline as he aligns himself with your entrance.

Your breath catches at the feel of his head pressing against you. The vibrator felt good, amazing even, but there’s something different about him being back there. Something thrilling, tantalizing, transgressive about him taking control, about you folding beneath him, offering yourself like this. You know he can feel all of your excitement, your eagerness, and when he finally pushes inside, and your hands grip the pillow, fingers tightening in the soft material as cool air buffets your sensitive skin and you feel him press flush against your ass, you know he can feel everything you can.

When he is fully inside, he stills, letting you both adjust. You can’t get a proper look at him, all you can see is the blurry outline in the corner of your vision, and the partial reflection in the mirror on your desk, catching only the upper half of his body, still fully-clothed in shirt, tie and jacket. You can feel his jeans against the backs of your thighs. Something about it feels quick and dirty, and you fucking love it.

Your muscles clench around him, struggling to relax at the intrusion. He isn’t massive, but something about the texture, or maybe the knowledge that this is him, keeps your body on alert for longer than usual. Connor is patient at least, bending down to kiss between your shoulder blades, unclasping your bra and trailing soft touches down your spine, then back up to your neck, tipping your head back with his hand under your chin until you can feel his forehead pressed against your crown. You can feel his breath tickle the back of your neck, that same spot he hesitated on earlier. He pauses again, before snaking his tongue out to lick it. Immediately, his hips jerk forwards, uncontrolled, chasing whatever pleasure he managed to draw out through that innocuous spot.

“Ah! Connor...” The words escape you, not a play on your part to rile him up but a genuine gasp. When he thrusts against you like that, it’s unexpected and firm in a way that excites you. “Please...”

You arch your back, your knees spreading slightly, as Connor releases you and leans back. He doesn’t need another invitation, he begins to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed. You can feel yourself already building again, one of your hands snaking down between your legs. As soon as your fingertips find your clit Connor’s movements lose their rhythm, becoming hurried and uncontrolled. You can hear his breathing become erratic, his grip on your waist tight, almost hoisting you off of the bed as he chases your pleasure. 

You don’t realize you’re repeating his name until your breathing stops, the wash of your orgasm overwhelming your entire body, leaving you quivering and silent. Connor continues to thrust for a moment, using your body, and from the sounds he’s making you don’t think he’s fully found his release yet - even if he must have felt yours.

Suddenly he releases you and moves backwards, something almost pained coming from his throat. Still struggling with your suddenly heavy and weak muscles, you do your best to sit up and face him.

“Are you okay?”

Connor nods. His hair has fallen into his face, but you can still see his LED - it’s red.

“Sorry, detective. It was just...”

“Too much?” You shuffle forwards towards him. He watches you, uncertain at first, but as you get closer he leans towards you, welcoming your comforting touches as you smooth back his hair and take hold of his arm. “It’s okay. Come on, lie down. Trust me.”

Connor obliges, keeping his eyes on you as you switch places and he lies on his back, head on the pillows. He suddenly comes back up to remove his shoes but you wave him away, doing it for him. 

“You’re still just feeling everything through me,” You murmur, sliding off his socks. “You’re not feeling it yourself. You’re not being touched, like you deserve.”

Connor swallows. He isn’t used to being treated like this, like he’s entitled to anything, like he deserves anything. His whole world used to be about serving others, about succeeding, and praise was always unexpected. It was something you’d always liked about him, the way his whole face would light up when you complimented him on a job well done. He wouldn’t admit it, but you think some part of that urge remains. Now, you want to serve him. You move up to slip your fingers into his jeans, edging them down, along with his underwear, but you don’t touch him there yet. Instead you move up to straddle his waist, where you can loosen his tie. 

“Detective?” He places his hands on your wrists, stopping you. From where he’s holding your hands under his chin, you can extend one finger to trace his bottom lip.

“It’s okay,” Your voice is quiet, coming up on your knees a little so your weight isn’t fully on him. “I want to make you feel good.”

His lips quiver beneath your touch, before parting, and his tongue slips out to tap your finger, curious, instinctual, part of his way of understanding the world. His grip on your wrists loosens, but not before he pulls your hands upwards a little, his tongue growing bolder against the pad of your fingertip. You wonder what he’s processing; your DNA, all of your unique details. You. 

He’s processing you. 

He draws your finger further into his mouth, his tongue curling around your digit, teeth lightly clamping on your knuckle. He can feel the way it makes you feel, the inside of his mouth, the cool, damp, velvet-soft tongue against your burning skin. You withdraw your hand and replace it with your own mouth. He accepts the kiss eagerly, hands coming up to rest on your hips, the hard ends of his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. When his hands begin to wander, curving down, you reach back to take them in yours. He lets you hold them above his head, those soft, brown eyes narrowing in curiosity... and excitement.

You sit back and unbutton his shirt, spreading it out so you see his torso. In the low light his skin looks pale and flawless, in fact you’re pretty sure it’d look that way in any light. You smooth your hands over his chest, tracing the lines and panels of the plastic biocomponents beneath. The difference between this cool, perfect android beneath you and a regular hot-blooded, flesh-and-blood man has never been more obvious. It tantalises you, thrills you to know that you have all of the time in the world to explore every possible difference, to discover everything there is to know about him, every intimate detail. 

“You’re perfect,” You whisper, almost to yourself. He shifts beneath you, as if the compliment is too much for him.

When your hand stops over the strong, fast thump of his thirium pump, Connor’s head falls back, his neck straining. Vulnerability, just like he said. Letting you get this close to his most vital biocomponent sets something off in him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask as your fingers trace small patterns into the skin about the racing organ. You lift your hips, you can feel him pressing against your ass.

“Yes. Detective... please...” He can barely get the words out. You lift your hand, but as soon as you do his hands shoot down to grab your hips, “No! No... Please... Don’t stop.”

His hands are pushing you, trying to orientate you where he needs you. You let him do it, let him position you above his hips so he can sink himself into your heat, and the strangled moan that comes out of his mouth makes you feel light-headed.

“Connor.” You breathe, beginning to rock your hips. You take it slow, watching him for every reaction, adjusting your rhythm, the position of your hands on his chest, even the sounds you’re making, according to what he wants. His pleasure is all you care about now.

“Switch it off,” You murmur. “I want this to be you.”

Connor nods, his hands tightening around you, his own hips beginning to rut up against you as he focuses not on your feelings but his own. You lean forwards, your hands planted on his chest as you roll your hips in unison with him. This might not be for you, but you can feel yourself building again, mostly because of the sight of Connor beneath you, shaking, LED bright red, eyes wet and desperate with want.

“Come on,” You urge. “Connor. Please.”

Your arms begin to tremble, forcing you down flat against him as his movements outpace yours. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he thrusts up into you. His own arms encircle you, holding you so close you almost can’t take it as he drives up into your sensitive spot. You whimper into his ear as his pace quickens and turns erratic, knowing he’s close. 

You cum at the same time, his gasps for air as loud in your ear as yours are in his. He keeps going for as long as he can before it becomes too much for either of you, leaving you entangled in each other, bodies damp and trembling. You almost wish you were an android, so you could store away every little detail, keep them safe and permanent in your memory, as you settle into the afterglow. It feels like quite a long time before either of you move. Connor begins to trace circles on your bare back, before you finally convince yourself to get up. 

When you’re both cleaned up, and tucked warm and content into bed, you don’t know why but you start to laugh.

“Let’s hope the neighbours don’t call the cops on us,” You roll over to face him. “Don’t fancy Gavin Reed storming my apartment. I think he’d shoot us both.”

Connor hooks his arm around your neck, the other circling your waist so he can pull you against him. “I don’t think he’d stand a chance.”


End file.
